


drew a map to a better place

by wraysford



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraysford/pseuds/wraysford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And yes, maybe Mark can win Christian’s attention here, but it’s the only place he’s won anything all season.</i> Set post-Brazil '13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drew a map to a better place

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kink meme prompt I now can't/am too lazy to find, and also WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN KNOW OTL

He and the team have just ended their fourth season in a row as world champions, and by rights Sebastian ought to be delighted, still in the garage and the motorhomes celebrating with his mechanics and engineers and everyone else who’s poured their heart and soul into his car; but all he feels, as he collapses back onto the bed in his Brazilian hotel room, is suddenly, overwhelmingly tired. The champagne is sticky on his skin and in his hair, and when he closes his eyes the roars and jeers of the crowd are still echoing in his head.

He shifts onto his side, tugging the blankets over himself as tries to get comfortable in the too-soft sheets, and something falls across the bed. Sebastian blinks at it, sitting up.

It’s one of his 2009 shirts – and it really is one of _his_ , faded and worn soft - and Sebastian stares at it, too tired to be anything more than curious. He reaches out to rub the fabric between his fingertips, picking it up, and a note falls into his lap.

There’s a room number in Christian’s neat handwriting. _Seventy-four_ is all it says, and Sebastian looks back at the shirt once more before getting up and heading into the shower.

 

The first few buttons of Christian’s shirt are undone when he opens the door to the room, and there’s the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. He looks exhausted, and older because of it; sometimes Sebastian forgets it’s only fourteen years between the two of them.

The door creaks when it closes, and Sebastian reaches out for Christian, pressing their mouths together softly. This is how he wants it: slow and gentle, Christian murmuring in his ear how proud he is, calling him _Sebi_ like only he does.

But Christian shakes his head, stepping backwards. “No,” he says. “Not tonight, Seb,” and Sebastian blinks, because Christian never outright tells him no. Not ever: it’s always subtle suggestions that he do something else instead, or distracting him, or sometimes _this is silly, Seb_.

This is different. Sebastian rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at the ugly carpet. Christian catches his wrist, turning it over almost delicately in his big hand and rubbing over the soft skin over his veins with a thumb.  

His voice is heavy and resigned when he speaks next. “Do this for me,” he says. “Let him have this. One last time.”

And then there’s the sound of the shower shutting off, and Mark appears from the bathroom in only a towel, five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He smirks when he sees Sebastian, eyes dragging up his body.

 “Christ,” he says, and his gaze flicks to meet Christian’s. He’s still avoiding Sebastian’s eyes. “You really got him to do it.”

Christian’s grip tightens on Sebastian’s wrist, and all Sebastian can think to feel is _tired tired tired_.

 

Later, when Sebastian’s on his knees with Mark’s cock in his mouth, shoulder aching where Mark had unceremoniously shoved him down onto the carpet, Christian leans across to kiss Mark. He keeps one hand resting in Sebastian’s hair though, at the nape of the neck where it’s long and brushes the top of his t-shirt, and it does something to calm the jealousy that’s threatening to cloud Sebastian’s mind. (Because maybe Mark can win Christian’s attention here, but it’s the only place he’s won anything all season. And next year Sebastian won’t have any rivals here even if he does on the track; Christian’s promised him that much.)

He closes his eyes and leans back into Christian’s touch when Mark comes in his mouth.

 

When he leaves Mark doesn’t shut the door, throwing out a, “Thanks, kid,” to Sebastian before he disappears, and Sebastian flushes like it really is 2009 all over again. Christian rolls his eyes before getting up to close it – and, Sebastian notes with petty satisfaction, lock it behind him.

He lets Sebastian kiss him after that, but they both know it isn’t the same with the taste of Mark on both of their lips. 

 

 


End file.
